Make Me (Remdy)

We All Have Secrets

Trigger warnings: Mentions of death, depression.

Also I was writing this in the dark and a moth landed on my laptop screen and being someone who has a phobia of moths, I damn near fell out of bed. Now I'm writing with the lights on so they (there's 2, little devils) stay on the light and not on my screen. Fucking hate them so much, they scare the shit outta me.

The week shooting the music video is a drag, for Remington and for everyone else. What with Andy's constant, tiring nagging, the endless need to re-film certain bits from different angles, the snarky remarks fired at Remington from the singer because of his 'sluttish appearance ruining the aesthetic.' At one point, Remington purposefully hits Andy over the head with the neck of his guitar and the two end up in a rather humorous, strangely harmless battle of pulling hair and throwing unplanned, pathetic punches that are caught and thrown back. They're pulled apart by two rather fed-up members of the band and filming continues.

On the last evening, the group have a meal in an expensive restaurant and, surprise surprise, Andy and Remington find something to argue about. This time, it's because Remington checks his phone at the table and Andy insists, "it's rude, grow up."

Remington looks at him and scoffs. "You're one to talk," he says, "you're the rudest mother fucker in this whole country."

"Don't swear in here."

"I'll fucking say what I fucking want, alright? I'm a grown ass man, which is more than can be said about you. You act like you're still in year nine and trying to sleep with the year eleven chav."

Andy snatches Remington's phone from his hands. "Let's see what's so important, then. Oh, that's nice, you're interrupting dinner which I'm paying for to text some slut called Shy about a party. What sort of name is Shy?"

"She's not a slut, is that the best insult you can come up with in that porridge brain of yours? Give it the fuck back."

"Language," Andy scolds.

Remington laughs. "You ain't my dad, mate, chill out. I mean, if being called 'daddy' is your thing, I'm sure your slutty wife would do that for you, considering you two are so in love and-"

"Shut up about my wife!"

"Why? Because you don't want anyone else here to know that you're getting a divorce? Oh dear, too late, they know now." He grabs his phone back as the others exchange confused glances.

"Andy?" Lonny asks, "you and Juliet are getting a divorce?"

Andy stands up, visibly angry, and walks away. The table is awkwardly quiet and Remington keeps his eyes down because he knows they're looking at him.

Lonny then follows Andy out to 'have a talk' and returns a while later to give the news that, "it's true, they're getting a divorce."

Then everyone looks at Remington like they can't believe he'd expose such private information like that and for the rest of the meal he's the target of rather mean comments about Andy being a 'close friend' and a 'hard working man' and that it's 'unacceptable to treat him with such disrespect'.

The journey home is as bad as the journey out, only this time Remington doesn't let his suffering get in the way and he sits in the car having a silent panic attack and feeling like he might vomit again until they're well past the junction where it happened.

He doesn't go home when he's dropped off in town. No, Remington walks with his bag straight to the graveyard, where he sits on the small suitcase and looks at his gone brothers and their delicate flowers with wet eyes. "You were supposed to be a good driver," he mumbles, aimed at Sebastian, though knows it wasn't caused by his driving, but by the lorry driver's. A man who survived and serves a sentence in prison for the deaths he brought upon the world. Remington wishes he was dead because he killed his brothers and anybody who hurts his brothers deserves to rot in hell.

Remington wants to tell them about the bad week he's had but sees no use in it because they can't hear. He wishes they could, wishes he believed in what people say; that they're still here, still watching him, laughing with him, crying with him. But Remington isn't stupid and he isn't a kid. He knows they can't do any of that shit.

He wipes his eyes and closes them tightly to rid the tears from them. "It wasn't your time to go," he then whispers, and realises he's talking to them like he vowed never to do. "You fucking fucked everything up."

"Oh shit."

Remington snaps his head up and meets Andy's cold features with his. He wipes his eyes again and says nothing.

"You knew them?"

"Never heard of them in my life," he mumbles, getting up and picking up the suitcase.

Andy frowns. He watches the younger walk away and then he sits before the graves and reads them again. "You sound like beautiful people," he says, "I'm sorry you were taken so soon."

Remington walks home teary. He knows Andy didn't fall for his weak lie, that it's obvious he knew them or he wouldn't have been crying at their graves. Inside, he dumps the suitcase at the bottom of the stairs and sits in the living room with his head in his hands.

The party he was texting Shy about is tomorrow. Emerson's birthday. It didn't feel okay for either of them to not do anything, so they agreed to throw a party as though he were still around, to have cake and write cards and remember him as he would have wanted. They invited his friends and asked them all to bring something. A card, anything. Everyone agreed, of course. They know how difficult it is for Remington and Shy, especially, to deal with the loss of the youngest brother. He was so close to them both and the least others can do is to show their respect by doing as they request.

Remington goes to bed early. What with the troubling week and the unkindness from Andy and co since exposing the information about the man's divorce, he feels the only thing he can do is sleep. Everything else feels like too much of a drag right now.

In bed, he cries.